


Bound By Blood

by Vivian_Laufeyson



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anger, Blood, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Canonical Character Death, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, False Accusations, Family Loss, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Magic, Murder, Pain, Sad Ending, Semi-Canonical Character, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3834727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivian_Laufeyson/pseuds/Vivian_Laufeyson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the ritual of Purification is complete, a traumatized reader runs back to the Speaker, Lucien Lachance, only to have her entire world turned upside down as she learns the meaning of pain, loss, and loneliness. Trauma greets her at every turn, and she may never recover. </p><p>Warning: Contains blood and gore in the second chapter, and mentions and descriptions of murder throughout. Do not read if this disturbs you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Silence, My Sister

You were broken, lost, and everything seemed to hurt. The wound was still fresh, though there was no ailment on your body. There was nothing that could heal this wound, forever there, forever causing you pain, your memory as sharp as it ever was. When you closed my eyes you could still see it, the image of his desecrated corpse, and as much as it hurt, you never wanted it to fade. Of course, you remembered him as he was in life as well. His long, flowing black hair, pulled back, hidden under the hood, and rarely exposed to the sun; his pale skin, fair, soft, and as hidden as his hair; and his eyes. Though he rarely smiled, his eyes did, and they would shine when he praised any of his sisters or brothers, but especially around you, his Silencer. His baritone voice often gave commands, but there were times, unbeknownst to anyone else, when they would provide words of assurance, of comfort, of love, when he would speak to you as if you were more precious to him than the Night Mother herself, and you cherished those moments.

A tear slipped down your face. It had been only a few months ago, no more than 6 from when this all started. There had been a betrayer within the Sanctuaries, they were sure of it, and so the Black Hand called out for a Purification, and knowing that you were years too recent of an assassin to have been the culprit, they chose you to kill all in the Cheydinhal Sanctuary.

Lucien had been the one to tell you of your new duty, making sure you understood every aspect, equipped you with assistance, and sent you on your way. You, of course, did what was needed, keeping your eyes away as you slayed your brothers and sisters, dear friends, acquaintances, and enemies all. You ran back to Fort Farragut, your grief barely contained. He approached you, praise in his eyes, but nary a smile on his lips.

You stood there facing him, your arms clasped around my middle to refrain from trembling. Though it was failing, it made for a semblance of security. Lucien stepped closer and embraced you. It was unexpected, and though it surprised you, you didn't resist, and allowed yourself to be held. He expressed his deepest sorrows to you, his voice quiet, a pitch only you could hear.  
After he expressed his sorrow, he pulled away, and both grief and praise shone in his face. Though his voice spoke adoring praise, his words seemed only business, leaving you to pick out the affection.

“The ritual of Purification is complete. Well done. Sithis has been appeased and the time has come to acknowledge and reward your unwavering loyalty. The Black Hand is most pleased with your progress. You have been invited to share in secrets that few within the Dark Brotherhood even know exist. Your life in the Sanctuary is over. Those contracts are behind you. Now, you will serve the Black Hand. You will serve me. From this moment forward, you will walk the shadows as my Silencer. You will receive contracts only from me. Your new life has begun.”

In the midst of mourning, joy filled your heart, knowing that you achieved the position you had longed for since your first encounter with the Speaker. You would serve him, and him alone. Silencer. The name seemed poetic, he was the Speaker, and you the Silencer. A shaky smile graced your face and you laughed, if only slightly. Lucien returned your smile, less out of joy, but glistening with pride.

“What must I do now?”

“Now you embrace your fate.”

You nodded, still smiling, and Lucien sent you off to bed, for what you did not realize then would be your last night in the Fort that you had begun to call home.  
When you awoke, Lucien confronted you again, his face much more sober than the night before as he explained to you the conditions of your new role. Though this new position and honour was indeed a reward, it came with a price, as all good things do. You would no longer have contact with your dear Speaker, unless he deemed necessary. Instead, you would travel to dead drops, where your missions would lie in wait in hidden places until you arrived to collect them.

Albeit reluctantly, you turned towards the door, prepared to live my new life of seclusion, though you were already missing contact with your Speaker. You opened the door, and stepped through, walking off to where your new contract would be when an all too familiar voice stopped you.

You turned to face the voice, and walked back to him, obeying his call, as you always did, and always would until the Void itself separated you both. He took your hand, and without a word, led you to an area outside where a magnificent steed awaited the pair of you. He turned to face you, speaking with a variety of emotions that you couldn't name.

“This is a gift to you, my Silencer. She has served me well. I present her now to you as a token of my trust....and my love.”  
He stared at you expectantly, a sad smile bidding you farewell as you climbed upon the horse. Tears pricked your eyes as your Speaker made his goodbye, and sent you on your way.

You rode off into the night, moving quicker than you ever had, and undetected by all, as the mare, whom you'd been told was named Shadowmere, was quicker than any mortal horse. Arriving at the dead drop quickly, you began work on your first contract.

You prevented the necromancer from gaining immortality by taking his life, slowly, painfully, savouring his cries as you spilt his blood on his own altar. It brought you immense pleasure, the warmth of his blood covering your hands. You and necromancers had a bit of a disagreement, as they insisted upon defiling the corpses which you had worked so hard to send to the Void.

Your next target was a family. An entire family, and you couldn't tell whether you were ecstatic, or disappointed. You would insure you left no survivours, as no one should have to bear the pain of knowing that their family was gone. But then again, how many other people had you done that too? Each kill you made, every soul you sent to your lord. How many of them had families that were now embittered, that now suffered the same pain you did now?  
For the first time since you joined your Dark family, you felt regret for all of the men and women that you had killed, murdered in innocent blood. Yet, it brought you pleasure, and you enjoyed it. It only reinforced your loneliness. You'd never belong anywhere else.  
The word lonely described your life, especially now. No Sanctuary to return to, no friends to speak of, no family to call your own, and no Speaker to visit or return to. That had been your favourite part of returning home after a kill, seeing your beloved Speaker, but no more would your kills be met with congratulations or praise, but with silence. Deafening, deadly silence.

So off you went to complete your latest mission, to kill the Draconis family. But no more did your kills bring you pleasure, nor did they bring you grief. You felt nothing, often feeling more dead than alive. When you did feel emotion, it usually hurt, happiness being a foreign idea. So you shut yourself off, and did as you were instructed, for the first time, truly embracing what it meant to be an assassin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your kills were harder now, each one becoming more and more difficult. The targets would put up a fight that was unusually talented, as if they were expecting your arrival, and had trained for it,and it was more that you survived by sheer luck and potions than by skill. More than anything, you wanted to see your Speaker, but to no avail. At first you had hoped that he would come and find you. But as the weeks turned into months, you lost hope that you would ever see him again. 

You barely stood, swaying slightly, breathing heavily, the blood of your most recent kill still dripping from your armour. You were in pain, and although you wouldn't die, the potions only healed you. You leaned against a post, tired, when a figure began walking through the shadows. As first you thought nothing of it. The Thieves Guild often had business at night, and they would generally leave your kind alone. They didn't approve, in fact quite the opposite, but they recognized your ability to leave them cold on the ground if they acted against it. You reluctantly raised your weapon just in case, suddenly waking up when you realized that the figure was running towards you. You were equipped for a fight, and though you were still tired, you could probably survive. You really didn't want to fight, but considering that you hardly ever got a break anyway, it didn't surprise you.

Your arrow was raised, ready to plunge itself deep into the flesh of whoever tried to attack you. You pulled back, your hand to your cheek, ready to loose the arrow, when you froze. Your arrow fell, and your bow clattered to the ground.  
It was Lucien.

For the first time in months, you were genuinely happy, joy overcoming any other emotion. He was back! Your Speaker had returned to you! But- no... your joy quickly gave way to fear and pain as he yelled at you in a rage that you had never before seen from the man, his fury burning. Though it was night, you could see him clearly, and his rage alone brought tears to your eyes. You had never seen such pure hatred in a face, and it tore you apart.

“No! NO!! I'm too late! I thought I could get here in time, thought I could stop you! By Sithis, what have you done?! What madness has claimed you?! You have betrayed me! You have betrayed the Dark Brotherhood! WHY?!”

Tears flowed down your face as you shook your head. You hadn't. You hadn't. You did exactly as you were told. Lucien stepped towards you menacingly, his dagger at your throat and you backed into the nearest tree, the sudden impact causing you to wince.

He glared at you, his eyes speaking only death, and it only made your tears flow harder, as the eyes that once showered you with pride, adoration, and love now only wished to send you to the Void, just as you had countless others.  
“I have come to end your miserable life.”

He growled as the knife pushed closer to your throat, drawing the slightest amount of blood. You were confident that this is how you were going to die, at the hand of your beloved mentor and Speaker, Lucien Lachance, but he hesistated, and you looked up from the knife, back to his face, as he stared at you for what he was sure would be the last time. The dagger fell away.

“No....I can see the confusion in your eyes. You....you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?”

You shook your head, your hand now covering your mouth, sobbing, traumatized by your own near death. He explained.

“Your first dead drop contract, you carried that out, killed Celadaen. After that, you eliminated the Draconis family, as ordered. Then betrayal! Your dead drops went unvisited, your targets ignored. Instead you had systematically been killing off the members of the Black Hand. J'Ghasta, Shaleez, Alval Uvani, Havilstein Hoar-Blood, Speakers and Silencers all. And Ungolim! The Listener himself!”

You looked up at Lucien in shock, the tears had stopped in the sudden surprise of the news, and you just silently shook your head, your mouth agape. 

His face was stil red with rage, but calming. You were innocent. His Silencer was innocent. But the problem still remained to be dealt with.

Lucien's voice, though slightly frantic, had calmed considerably, and though your terror had not stilled, the trauma still extremely evident, his familiar voice calmed you, despite the words.

“The remaining members of the Black hand know you are innocent. They know that you were only following order. They believe that it was I that changed your contracts, that I am the traitor. I am hunted day and night by the Black Hand. They want me dead!”

You grabbed your stomach as you lurched forward in shock, your head shaking vigorously, sobbing. Inconsolable, your extreme crying had caused you to hyperventilate, and when you looked up, you could barely see your Speaker for all of the tears. His hands laid gently on your shoulders, and then pulled you into another tight embrace. You sobbed into his robes, your pain, exhaustion, grief, and shock breaking a dam. Clutching his robes like a life line, you shook violently, unaware that silent tears of his own fell into your hair.  
When you were both able to speak again, his voice fell into a whisper.

“I have a plan.”  
You could barely make out the words, straining as each came.  
“I am yours to command, my Speaker.”

A gentle smile came over his face.  
“Excellent.”

He led you to a bench, where you both sat down, your head resting on his shoulder, his hands carding through your hair as he spoke, his voice calm and quiet.

“The traitor somehow switched your orders, and has obviously been sending you to the wrong dead drops. You and I have been deceived, my dear friend. We must find out who is behind this betrayal, though we haven't much time. My plan is this: you will go to your nest dead drop, lie in wait, and confront whomever drops off the false contract. You will need to uncover the true traitor's identity, and then come and see me. I will be in hiding. Fort Farragut is no longer secure. It's under watch by the Black Hand. I will be waiting for you at Applewatch, the farm where you killed the old Draconis woman. It should be empty, and unknown. I will be safe there. Please, come back to me as soon as possible.”

You nodded into his shoulder and yawned the length of the day and your fatigue catching up with you. You had heard everything he said, and you agreed, and though you wanted to comment, no sound could escape your lips, as you fell asleep.  
He smiled, picking you up gently, and carrying you to an inn. Paying the owner, he took you back to a room, and laid you down, only bothering to remove your boots before pulling the covers over you.

“You are understandably exhausted, my Silencer. I shall allow you to sleep, though I hate to leave you while you cannot see me. I believe that this may be our last encounter while I still live. Ah, but you cannot hear me. I will stay with you tonight, I owe you at least that, if not so much more, my ever-faithful Silencer.” 

Slowly, he climbed into the large bed with you, pulling the covers back up. Placing a chaste kiss to your forehead, he wrapped a single arm around you, and slept.


	2. Split Blood in the Name of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for bearing with me and my horribly slow writing! I'm so sorry for making you all wait for so long, so here's the new chapter for all of you!
> 
> Please comment your opinions. It means so much to me to read feedback from everybody!
> 
> Kudos and comments equal love, and love equals pie!
> 
> Emjoy!

You awoke several hours later, when the sun was already well up, and most of the overnight sleepers from the inn were already well gone. It was well past breakfast, but you couldn't care in the least, because when you rolled over in bed, you were met with the sleeping face of your beloved Speaker. 

His hair, for once, was out of it's restraints, the leather strip that usually tied it back unceremoniously cast aside, along with his boots. It was strewn across his face, behind it, as well as over it, and you slowly reached up and stroked it away. 

Laying your head back down upon the pillow, you were unsure as to why he had chosen to stay with you. So often he had visited in the night, giving you news, or your latest assignments, before you had become his Silencer, and after business had been attended to, he had simply disappeared. No potions, no tricks, he would just transport away to what you could only now assume had been the once safe Fort Farragut. But tonight, he had chosen differently. He had not only brought you to an inn from the park bench in which you had fallen asleep, but skillfully assisted you in getting into the bed, all without your knowledge, and you simply smiled.

The long wait, the months of nothingness, of pure maddening silence, the scare for your life, it was all worth it, all worth it for these moments with your Speaker. Those moments where your deepest dreams were fulfilled, where the world was right, and you and your Speaker could simply exist with one another. But wasn't that all it was? A dream? A fantasy made by your mind. A saddened sigh passed through your lips as you accepted the fact that those months of silence were your life, and these moments, these precious few moments would be your heaven in between.

Your head touched back down on the pillow, content to fall back asleep if it meant that heaven lasted just a little while longer. As you laid there, your eyes just gazing at Lucien's closed one's, he stirred, and you were tempted to play as if you still slept, though you knew he would see it immediately. Ignoring the idea, you simply watched him, his eyelids lifting to reveal the eyes that seemed to be pure ebony, darker than his hair, darker than the Void. Once again, his eyes shone, the purest praise and love pouring from them.

No words were exchanged, but none were needed. Everything that needed to be said you both already knew. There had been a time where he was merely Lucien, but when he had chosen you above the rest to be his Silencer, there was an unbreakable bond created, you were forever part of each other, two parts of the same soul. You both arose, slipping on your boots, as he pulled back his hair and slipped his hood over his head.  
Walking out of the inn, you turned back to look at him, and spoke tentatively.

“I will see you at Applewatch, then?”

He stopped immediately, and walked back to where you were.  
“Yes, and with the evidence, do not forget the evidence.”

“Of course. You're an innocent man, Lucien. We'll prove that. Applewatch is safe, you're sure?”

“Other than leaving Cyrodiil, my faithful Silencer, it is the safest I could be rather than a temple, but they will not allow assassins in a temple.”

“Indeed. Then I will see you soon. Lucien, be alive when I return.”

“I plan to be, if I can help it.”

You both laughed shortly, and despite the gravity of the situation, you were glad for a little humour. Afterwards, he looked at you seriously.

“Silencer, do not waste your time, and do not return to me without the evidence.”

You only nodded, not really having the energy for much else, and you both turned and walked off, him towards Applewatch, you towards Shadowmere, and towards your next dead drop in order to bait the betrayer.

When you arrived in Anvil it was nightfall, so you hurried to the site, and hid, awaiting the betrayer, and while you could not kill him yet, you would have fun tormenting him.  
It was nary a half hour when a crouched figure stalked up to the area, and you stared with bated breath. As he began to walk away, you jumped out from the bush in which you hid, caught him, and placed your blade at his neck. He tensed, and you whispered in his ear.

“If you want to make it away from this encounter with the Dark Brotherhood, you will tell me right now as to why you're switching out my orders.”  
Your voice was deadly soft, reduced almost to a growl, and the Bosmer whimpered in your grasp, only answering when the knife pressed against his neck a little firmer, though it was in equally hushed tones.

“Alright! Please, don't kill me! I was paid to do it. I swear. I didn't know why, I didn't even read the paper, I just put it where he told me to, and I didn't question it.”

You lifted the blade, but not the arm restraining him, as you pushed him against the stone wall, and you turned to face him, carefully pulling the tip of the blade against the curve of his cheek, drawing the slightest of blood, and he hissed as you asked, “And who would he be?”

He was beginning to panic, as the realization dawned upon him that he would not survive this encounter after all, and he began to tremble, not bothering to answer your question. You smiled murderously, slowly repeating the motion on the other side of his face. You whispered again.

“Answer me, elf. You will not survive this meeting, no, but nothing says I have to make it quick.”

He looked away, and answered without taking a breath. You had missed this. The terror of your victims as they trembled beneath you. He had deserved this, just as the betrayer would.  
“I don't know his name. I don't know his name, but I know where he's staying. He's staying in the Lighthouse. I don't know why, but he is. You'll find what you need there. Please. Just, don't kill me. Please.”

You leaned forward, close enough for your breath to tickle his sensitive elven ears, you voice soft, and would've been kind if not for your message, which was about as much mercy as anyone who crossed you would get.  
“Oh, don't worry about pleading, elf. You helped the man who betrayed me. You will not survive. But I will grant you grace.” He sighed, and you finished. “I will kill you quickly.”   
And before he could react, your knife had plunged into his stomach, and you twisted it, yanking it out.  
When he fell, you leaned forward, and said openly, “I hope you rot in the Void.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You walked off, your knife still dripping with blood, towards Shadowmere, who looked at you and nuzzled your hand. You could feel your savage smile, and it made you feel powerful, the ability to rob another of his life when he had done you such wrong, adrenaline coursed through your veins and you laughed. It was a horrible laugh, deep, unceasing, and if anyone had been there to hear, you would've terrified them, but as it was, the only one privy to your fit of madness was Shadowmere and the fresh corpse that lay merely steps away.  
Mounting her, you rode off into the night, which was now silent, as the earth drank from the red fountain of the slain.

You arrived quickly, the lighthouse not far away from where you had been, and you sheathed your dagger, inspected your armour for any traces of blood, and knocked on the old wooden door.  
An old man answered, and though it was obvious he was well in years, his body was strong, and continued to press on. Should you be forced to kill him, he would be a formidable opponent.  
You put on a smile, trying your best to find some semblance of normality, as you questioned the lighthouse keeper.

“I'm sorry for bothering you at this time of the night, but I was wondering if there has been anyone taking up residence in your lighthouse recently.”

He scowled at the question, looking suspicious.  
“And why do you need to know?”

“I'm looking for someone. You see, he's dishonoured my family.”

“And why would that concern me?”

“I've heard he's staying in this area, and I'm checking every possible place.”

“Well, maybe someone has been staying in my lighthouse, but why should I let you in and see? Why's this so important?”

“He didn't just dishonour my family, sir.”

“Then what did he do? Get on with it?”

“He killed my brothers and sisters. I want revenge.”

“I thought so. Another person looking for blood. Well, look here, I'm not going to tolerate-”

You softened your voice in an attempt to be persuasive, and gave him a devilish grin. “You don't have to be involved. Just let me do my business, and this never has to be mentioned again.”  
When it didn't work, he merely stared you down, and you could tell he was beginning to become aggressive, so you pulled your last string before murdering the man needlessly. Reaching into your pockets, Iyou pulled out a bag of coin, and held it out to the man.  
“May I do my business now?”

He slowly took the coin from you and turned briskly, disappearing through the door, and allowing you to follow. Turning down the hall, you found the door to the room in which the betrayer had been staying, and you carefully opened it. When the smell hit you, you gagged. It wasn't unfamiliar, no, it was the scent of death, but it was strong, as if several victims had their last breath drawn from them in this very chamber. 

You walked down the stairs, and stifled a scream. The sight of rotting corpses was one you knew, yes, but to come to expect it is another thing entirely. You covered your mouth as you looked around, your weapon sheathed. Your eyes were wide with horror as you checked baskets that were full to the brim of disjointed appendages, skulls, and bones. Corpses lay strewn across the floor, across desks, and crates, mutilated almost to the point of being unrecognizable as bodies. You wished to avert your eyes, but you could not, being in the room to search for the piece of evidence that would prove your Speaker's innocence.

You walked to the back of the room, ignoring the splashing of blood under your feet as you stepped through the puddles. Searching throughout the room made you nauseous, and you were anxious to leave as soon as possible, making your way to the back of the room where there seemed to be a shrine. To what, you didn't know, as it didn't look like a shrine to any Divine you'd ever seen. There was a book on the table, and despite the mess of the room, it was immaculately clean. 

You picked up the book, daring to look inside it, and you tensed. Flipping through the pages carelessly, you saw that every word had been written in blood, likely the blood of the poor souls that surrounded you.  
Going back to the beginning, you began to read. 

“It's all right, mother. It's almost over. I'm close. So very close. How long have we struggled? How long have we waited? Too long, I know. But it's almost over. I promise.”

It seemed too normal, far too normal for the chaos you saw around you, and continued, flipping the page suspiciously, when you saw it. A litany, over and over and over again, with no spacing, with no ceasing, kill him. You dropped the book in surprise, and shook your head, reaching over to pick it up, forcing yourself to read it through.

After pages of the seemingly incessant statement, it stopped, leaving nothing but a single poem on a page.

“Mommy mommy as you lie the dark man comes and makes you die my daddy's hands are red with guilt because he killed the life we built”

Your heart lurched, realizing the motive behind all of this, feeling pity for the man, though it would never excuse him. You shook my head and continued, never before hating your work as much as you did this moment.  
As you read, however, you realized the insanity of the betrayer, Matthieu Bellamont. The Dark Brotherhood was famed for it's secrecy, for stabbing others behind their backs, both figuratively and quite literally, though he made it an art form, playing loyal within the ranks since childhood, only to be able to one day end your dear Speaker, and the Night Mother herself. Everything you had searched for lied within the journal, the proof that would save Lucien, and so you grabbed it, running out the door, ignoring the calls from the old man, and fleeing to Applewatch as fast as Shadowmere could carry you.

As we rode, you opened the book, and read the final poem once again.

“Father prayed and guess who came the hooded man in Sithis' name who left but then he came once more to pass through window wall and door I lie in fear my mouth agape as wicked blade did cleave your nape for I was watching 'neath the bed to the falling of your head and when your face lie on the floor our loving eyes did meet once more and so I pledged to you that day the Brotherhood would dearly pay and just as they took me from you I'd find and kill their mother too but there's someplace I need to start and that's with father's beating heart and when that's done I'll sing and dance to celebrate a dead LaChance”


End file.
